Getting Along
by BlueBirdys
Summary: There were only two things on Della's mind the minute she set foot back on earth: hug her family and punch the living daylights out of Gyro Gearloose. (Takes place after Episode 207. Contains slight mentions of suicidal thoughts but nothing of that sort happens in this fic. Implied Fenton/Gyro)


When Della first looked around, it didn't quite seem like much had changed in the lab. She'd been expecting something completely advanced with high tech interface, considering Scrooge had told her that in the last ten years, the Money Bin had more or less been wrecked at least three times. But she knew nobody other than her was a real advocate for change.

Both to her relief and consternation, it was empty. She had time to think of things to say but no idea how much. As she began to brainstorm, she walked at a leisurely pace around the exhibition floor and was admittedly disappointed to see that nothing on the tables was active or full of life.

Gyro had always bragged that what made his work better than hers was that he was a true artist of the craft of invention, and she was the amateur. She always had fun one-upping him, and it was still fun to see whatever it was he made to challenge her, but everything that was up for viewing just seemed too sterile and mechanical, in need of some brightly colored paint job or maybe a few less steel plates.

She knew, somewhere in their conversation, that she'd have to give feedback, but she'd definitely have to choose her words wisely.

* * *

_There were only two things on Della's mind the minute she set foot back on earth: hug her family and punch the living daylights out of Gyro Gearloose. And unfortunately for Gyro, her family was late arriving to greet her._

_Perhaps it was the look of genuine surprise on the inventor's face to see her that she didn't punch as hard as she was wanting or in the place she wanted, so it simply ended up as an aggressive shove against his arm._

_"Ow!" Gyro yelled. "What the hell?"_

_"That's for leaving me with disgusting black licorice Oxy-Chew for ten years! And the worst kind of fuel source to rely on ever! If you'd just used space rocks like I suggested, I could have been home sooner!"_

_"Well, you're welcome for the first thing, because otherwise you'd be dead," Gyro spat, whatever welcome he'd had planned ruined. "And I wasn't the one who crashed it on the moon. That's on you, missy."_

_"We can play the blame game forever and a day, Gearklutz, but can we at least acknowledge that I was able to survive as long as I did on my sharp wits and machine building prowess? I got through your builder's manual in half the time anyone else could, and look!" She held up her prosthetic leg. "Medical science! Let your mind be blown!" She gestured an explosion in front of her head with her hands._

_"Impressive," Gyro responded, trying not to look too emotional, "but you wouldn't have done any of that without my gum sustaining you."_

_"Yeah, but that's a given, and your flavor choices still suck." She shrugged. "I mean, can we just call it a day and admit I got myself off the moon no thanks to your Goldtech?"_

_The smug look on Gyro's face darkened into a frown as he muttered, "Surprise. I don't use it anymore. The Spear of Selene was my last project implementing it."_

_Della threw her hands up. "Thank goodness! The last thing I need to worry about is someone getting killed from that kind of stuff!"_

_The instant it came out of her mouth, Gyro's expression blanked, and he didn't seem at all interested in arguing with her anymore. Rather, he fixed his gaze at the concrete._

_"Earth to Gyro?" She tried to get some sort of response._

_"Your family is pulling up at the gates," he finally uttered coldly. "You should go talk to them."_

_Della's focus on the conversation immediately shifted, and soon, she was lost in the incomparable joy of holding her children and being embraced by her uncle and her brother, catching up on lost time. Her conversation with Gyro was long gone out of her memory, and he was even moreso._

* * *

_Two months passed by, and only then did Della finally realize she hadn't put it into her mind to catch up with Gyro. She missed having a good quality science-based argument, and she wanted a chance to at least see whatever that weirdo had created in the last ten years. But when she tried calling to ask when he was in, he didn't pick up. She texted him (in all caps of course) to challenge him to bot wars, debates, even just to send a meme making fun of him, but it all went unanswered, only read._

_While scaling the mountains like old times with Scrooge and Donald, Della had decided to ask what Gyro's deal was during a lunch break. Everyone else had been handling her return just fine, but he'd basically ghosted her._

_"Is he really that upset that I didn't like his stupid gum?" she almost laughed between bites of a sandwich. "I mean, come on!"_

_Donald and Scrooge looked at each other, silently trying to decide on what to say. They didn't know what Della would actually believe._

_"You were gone for ten years. Gyro thought you were gone forever."_

_"I mean, everyone did, didn't they?" Della looked at her uncle. "But I'm here, and I'm alive and kickin', little the worse for wear."_

_"No, Della. He thought you were gone because of him," Scrooge explained, voice somber. "He took it hard for a very long time."_

_"He's gone full kook," Donald piped up, only to be swatted by Scrooge._

_"A lot of things happened based on that," Scrooge sighed. "He's not the man he used to be, and at this rate, I don't think he ever will be again."_

_A rock dropped into Della's stomach as she realized why Gyro was avoiding her, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. "Oh god," she mumbled, "I didn't think about that. I-Is he gonna be okay?"_

_"As okay as a kook could be-OW!" Donald squawked as Scrooge swatted him again._

_"I'm sure he will be," Scrooge sighed. "It isn't something you need to worry about, lass."_

_Della wasn't always a big fan of agreeing with her uncle on the things he said. And she definitely didn't agree on this._

* * *

Della tried not to look too out of place as she heard the elevator open, and her eyes met with Gyro's as he held a cardboard box in his arms. He stood in place, blinking once.

"Oh. You."

His voice was flat and he didn't exactly look surprised to see her. Instead of walking right to her, he simply walked straight ahead to his desk and put the box down, sitting in his chair to sort through it. Della watched for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something else, but he remained silent and inattentive to her as he worked. Taking a breath, she decided to take hold of the silence and smiled awkwardly.

"Uh. Hey, Gyro."

He didn't pause his work or seem to acknowledge her at all.

"I know you're kind of busy working, but I figured we should catch up sometime, and you can fill me in on the latest science crap you're doing because neither Scrooge or Donald are particularly well versed on that. It's like playing a really slow chessboard. No sense of challenge, y'know?"

Nothing.

"Anyway, what's that you're working on? Parts for a new machine? Is it for the one over here? Or here?"

Nothing.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Gy. These new things you're making? I'm not digging as much. They look like they've been tampered with by a mediocrity-vampire who sucked all the fun out of them. I think if you went back to the alternative fuel ideas instead of focusing on constant cogs and gears, you'd have something way more top of the line than a-"

"Thank you," he cut her off flatly. "I'll make note of it."

Somehow, Della knew he wasn't being sincere, but she didn't want to just drop it and leave. She took a step and leaned her hand on the corner of the desk.

"Look. I know you and I don't always get along, and it's mostly because I'm better than you, but I guess I've heard through the grapevine that somehow, you think I actually hate you? And I'm just here to say that's absolutely not true. I mean, I hate that you decided to make Oxy-Chew taste like garbage, and that yeah, it maybe was a _little_ inconvenient that Goldtech is what fueled that rocket, but I know Scrooge was the one really hyping that up back in the day, and-"

"Okay. I'm working."

The coldness of Gyro's voice made the knot in Della's stomach tighten even more, and she ground her metal heel into the floor to stand her ground.

"Gyro, I really don't wanna just leave stuff like this. I'd rather have you yelling at me and nitpicking my work than ignoring me because making each other mad was one of the few things I missed up on the moon."

"You're bothering me."

Della smiled. "Alright, good! We're getting somewhere! Now, don't you just wanna really tear into me about how I crashed the rocket on the moon? I mean, you don't think you could ever do something like that, right? Not even _Launchpad_ has done something like that-"

"Della. I'm working," Gyro cut her off again, voice sharp but emotionless.

An ache settled in her chest as she watched him continue to sort machine parts, almost seeming as robotic of the inventions he created.

"Gyro," her voice faltered, "please. Don't shut me out. I don't like that stuff between us ended on a bad note when we last talked."

"My invention almost killed you," Gyro argued back, finally glancing at her, "and you were gone from your family for ten years. I can't just forget that."

"I...Gyro, your invention freakin' saved me! It tasted awful, but I wouldn't have been here to see my boys or Uncle Scrooge or Donald without it!"

"The rocket," he reminded her. "I built it on that stupid, _stupid_ Goldtech, and you were up there fighting space creatures and getting hurt." He gestured at her leg. "And I've done nothing but invent failure after failure. That machine there? Turned evil. The one behind me? Set your Uncle's hat ablaze. Countless doomed projects. I have nothing to talk to you about because I've done _nothing_."

Della's attention was suddenly averted by a tiny robot with a lightbulb for a head walking across the lab and leaping onto the desk to watch Gyro work. "I mean, even this has turned evil more than once, and I can't guarantee it won't do it again," the inventor commented, gesturing toward the little robot.

Della stared, almost heartbroken at how tired and bitter Gyro sounded.

"You're right about one thing." Gyro looked at her, eyes tired and sad. "You are better than me. And you shouldn't be around me."

"Gyro..." Della swallowed, feeling her face grow hot. "I am _so_ sorry if I made you feel like any of what happened was your fault, but I was the one who flew the rocket into space, and I was the one who crashed it. I don't have anyone to blame for that but myself. You spent all this time thinking I was gone forever, and I wish _so_ badly that I could make that go away for you and everyone else. I miss talking to you and fighting with you and doing stupid things like building robots to see which one makes better pancakes or pulling stupid pranks on each other. I wish we could do that again."

Gyro turned his attention back to his work and sighed. "I know. I miss that too."

Della put her fingers to her forehead as she thought over her next words, not just for Gyro's benefit but for hers.

"I...I talked with Uncle Scrooge about everything that happened, and he told me about all the stuff you went through and-" She took a second to breathe, realizing how much it hurt to talk about it. "I don't want you to ever think that I actually want you dead or that you don't deserve to be alive."

Gyro sat up, looking genuinely surprised. "Where did you get the idea that-"

"I don't know! I just…" She shook her head as she tried to explain her thoughts. "I know you've been seeing a therapist since the accident, and that you were feeling so bad about this that I guess I got really worried for a bit that you'd have tried doing something _really_ bad like wanting to kill yourself…"

There was an incredibly long pause, Gyro expressionless as he tried to think of what to say. Suddenly, he gave a weak laugh. It was the first one Della had heard from him in years.

"You really are a mother to the core. It's obnoxiously noble." He shook his head and rubbed at his face in exhaustion, leaning an elbow on the table. "I didn't try killing myself, and I don't plan to if that's what you're fearing." He folded his arms and stared at the desk. "I thought about it at first, admittedly, but I have a cat to feed, and I don't trust my landlady to look after her. And I don't want to put my boyfriend through that either. Besides...therapy has touted that it's very bad for your health."

Della was too surprised to answer, and Gyro cocked his head. "That's a joke. You can laugh….no seriously, please laugh. It's amusing watching you gape like a trout, but after thirty seconds, I start to think you've had a stroke."

A breathless wheeze came out of Della's throat instead of a laugh, and she leaned against the desk in relief to hear Gyro talk to her. "Oh thank goodness!" She rubbed at her eyes. "I was worried about you. After what Uncle Scrooge told me, I just wanted to know if you were okay."

Gyro shrugged. "Depression aside, I think I've managed. I made it this far without cutting a leg off. Can't say the same for you."

"Oh, wow. Jerk," she snorted. "Soon I won't feel so bad about wanting to strangle you for that gum."

"I can't believe you haven't grown accustomed to the taste of black licorice," Gyro tutted. "You really are a tough nut to crack."

"I hate that you like any food because I have nothing to get revenge on you with! I'd force-feed you strawberries, but I don't want you to die of anaphylactic shock."

"How considerate."

They stared at each other with smug expressions, but their eyes gave away how genuinely glad they were to see each other.

"We'll have to get coffee sometime soon," Della suggested. "You gotta catch me up on all the nonsense my family's put you through. And don't think I don't remember you talking about a boyfriend. I wanna meet this guy and warn him of how insufferable you are."

"He already knows. I used to be his boss." Gyro smirked. "But I can give you the details in exchange for the story behind that leg. I'd like to know how it works."

"Deal!"


End file.
